Sor: Fantasias Nos. 7, 10, 13 / 24 Studies (Excerpts)

Weber, C.M. Von: Clarinet Quintet in B-Flat Major / Grand Du

Cello Recital: Gustafsson, Jan-Erik - SZYMANOWSKI, K. / KODA

Piano Recital: Raekallio, Matti - MOZART, W.A. / GLUCK, C.W.

Orchestral Music - Sibelius, J. / Grieg, E. / Nielsen, C. (S

Piano Quartets - Strauss, R. / Mahler, G. / Schnittke, A.

Sallinen, A.: String Quartets No. 1-5

...the conservative musical language rather brings Verdi to mind, and in a very real sense this cycle is a twentieth century equivalent to the latter’s Requiem: both are symphonic in construction and operatic in idiom, composed from spiritual rather than religious standpoints...

Listening to these two works by Aulis Sallinen is a bit like looking at two different photographs of the composer: the face is undeniably the same but not the perspective. Songs of Life and Death (1993-4) arose, rather by mischance, from a failed effort to compose a Requiem on verses by Lassi Nummi. Although title and outward form suggest Mahlerian associations, the conservative musical language rather brings Verdi to mind, and in a very real sense this cycle is a twentieth century equivalent to the latter’s Requiem: both are symphonic in construction and operatic in idiom, composed from spiritual rather than religious standpoints, and make use of secular elements. There are differences of course, not the least in scale and conception, which serve to underline a similarity of purpose and stature relative to their epochs. And while Sallinen's songs are very much songs of life, death is not here perceived as a grim or tragic end, and this imparts to the whole a peculiarly late twentieth-century aspect. Here at last is the choral-and-orchestral masterpiece Sibelius should have written, Finnish to the core yet international in appeal. It is, I believe, one of the very finest compositions Sallinen has yet produced...Very strongly recommended.

- Gramophone, 12/1995

Hameenniemi, E.: Violin Concerto / Symphonies Nos. 1 and 2

From Ondine comes a perceptive, at times daring, always thought-provoking new account of Britten's Piano Concerto. Indeed, pungent characterization is the order of the day, especially in the two middle movements. Here the ''Waltz'' is teased out with sly seduction by Okku Kamu and his excellent Swedish group, yet at the same time the ominous undertones of this music—its elements of ghostly burlesque and bitter irony—have (to my ears, at any rate) never been more unnervingly projected. Even more distinctive is Ralf Gothoni's provocatively expansive way with the opening of the ''Impromptu''. Britten's theme now emerges like some ravishingly intimate meditation, its quasi-improvisatory air (as the movement's title suggests) compellingly conveyed. Yet such is the magnetic concentration of Gothoni's playing that the line never falters, and the rest of the movement is again memorably realized—how marvellously for example, Kamu 'places' the final sustained ppp string chord.

As on the admirable performance by Joanna MacGregor for Collins Classics, we are also offered the concerto's original slow movement, a sharply inventive, highly capricious ''Recitative and Aria'' (which Britten withdrew in 1945, seven years after the work's premiere). Ondine rather jarringly programme this movement between the ''Waltz'' and ''Impromptu'', whereas Collins allot it a separate track after the concerto proper—an altogether preferable arrangement, I feel. No complaints, though, about the fizz and bravura on show in the opening ''Toccata'', nor about the mock-banal finale, whose largamente climax struts forth in superbly grim fashion here. In sum, a performance which all Brittenites should investigate.

Welcome contrast is afforded by the two Rossini-inspired suites, and Kamu does them both proud. The orchestral playing in Helsingborg has all the necessary poise and affection, whilst I especially enjoyed the extra breathing-space and wealth of tender expression Kamu finds in the two most reflective numbers (namely the ''Canzonetta'' from Soirees and ''Nocturne'' from Matinees) Ondine's sound throughout is simply first-rate. A splendid release.

-- Andrew Achenbach, Gramophone [1/1995]

}Gramophone (2/97, p. 58) "...DePreist gives us a pair of sensible, very well-prepared performances in good, albeit slightly studio-bound sound..."{

Sibelius, J.: Vocal Music

The third, polyglot version of the Fourteenth Symphony was sanctioned by the composer but it remains something of a rarity on disc; some vital and specific tone colour is lost along with the original note values, and the ‘three lilies’ adorn the grave of “The Suicide” more elegantly in the Russian. Bernard Haitink may not agree. He elected to use the multilingual text in his 1980 recording and now Joseph Swensen presents this unexpectedly compelling alternative. We tend to take sonic excellence for granted these days but this struck me as a true state-of-the-art recording with the soloists more naturally placed than in the rival Decca issue and an orchestral sound combining great clarity with just enough hall resonance.

The performance has character too, if lacking the pervasive chill of the earliest Soviet accounts. The conductor, still more familiar to UK readers in his previous guise as a Dorothy DeLay-trained violin prodigy, secures excellent results from the Tapiola Sinfonietta. They are a lean and super-efficient group, yet without the loss of character this can sometimes imply. Of the soloists, the young bass-baritone Petteri Salomaa is particularly impressive: his is a voice of rare tonal beauty, a Billy Budd rather than a Boris. His pronunciation is a little odd at times – something more noticeable in a version which has the singers feigning familiarity with four languages – but you may not see this as a problem. Tempos are perceptibly more ‘extreme’ than Haitink’s, with the opening “De profundis” dangerously slow in the modern manner and a strikingly well-characterized instrumental contribution to “A la Sante” (“In the Sante Prison” – or “Priseaux” as it tends to come out here).

The fillers, larger than life, brilliantly dispatched and curiously inappropriate, are based on original quartet pieces which only came to light in the mid 1980s. The first shares material with Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk; the second appears as the polka from The Age of Gold! This is nevertheless a more rewarding, more probingly conducted disc than most of the current Shostakovich crop.

-- Gramophone [4/1996]

Gothóni's playing is of an entirely different league and his artistry of a different order. His account of Kyllikki is commanding, full of character and imagination. Whether in the Five Pieces, Op. 75, or the finely wrought Song in the Forest from Esquisses, Op. 114 Gothóni plays with both authority and sensitivity. While the piano music is, by the exalted standards Sibelius set elsewhere, limited in resource he never – to quote Glenn Gould – "wrote against the grain of the keyboard". Gothóni shapes and colours every phrase with fantasy and without the slightest trace of exaggeration. The Op. 34 Bagatelles are particularly successful and persuasive.

- Gramophone 11/1996